Friday, December 11, 2009

I have some quirks. We all do, I know but even I think some of mine are weird. Like my thing with water. Water has places that it belongs and places it doesn't and if water is somewhere it shouldn't be, it makes me twitchy. Not kidding. I can't deal with being wet. As soon as I get out of the shower I dry off every inch of myself, including between my fingers. If I wash my hands, I dry them completely. I love those super strength blow dry things in restrooms and I will be the asshole who stands there for a full minute until her hands are totally dry. Don't get me wrong, I have no issue while I'm actually in the shower, and I totally love swimming but when I'm done, it's over, I need to be dry. Not mostly dry, not air dry, Dry. My husband on the other hand only uses a towel so as not to mentally scar the other members of his family. It is used purely as a cover up, never to dry. He prefers to "air dry" (lazy) and even puts on clothes while he still has water droplets on him! Now that just sends me into a tailspin. I get goosebumps even thinking about it and he just shrugs and says "Eh, they'll dry." ACK! Dry it now! I have been known to take a towel and dry his hair so vigorously that he claims I'm going to break his neck. I say, It needs to be done. Because when he doesn't dry himself, he inevitably comes up and tries to hug me, or some other such nonsense, and gets me wet! Not. Cool. He also doesn't always dry his hands after he washes them. He fails to see this as an issue. My guess is he also fails to see the puddles of water he leaves in his wake. Which is why he leaves them for me to clean up. As I walk through the kitchen. In my socks. Wet socks may just be the bane of my existence. Second only to wet jeans. Or slightly damp jeans. Which my husband often hands me out of the dryer. After which follows a conversation like this:

Me: These are wet.Him: They're dry; they just came out of the dryer.Me: They're wet.Him: They're not wet I just touched them. Me: They're wet.Him: They might be a little damp, just put them on they'll be dry in ten minutes.

And then my head explodes from the epic restraint I've showed by not strangling him to death.

And you know what else? Wet counters. I can't deal with seeing wet counters. Public restrooms drive me bonkers. How the hell does the counter get so wet? Did somebody try to wash their cat in there? I have never in my life washed my hands so viciously that I had to wipe down the bathroom*. Am I just doing it wrong? I don't know but I have to fight the urge to wipe down the counters there and at home the counters always get dried after I wipe them down. But I try to be kinda green so if they're only a little wet I fan them. And that is how I know I'm crazy. Because rather than walk away and let them air dry? I Fan. My. Counters. Wet jeans I can justify but there's just no way to talk through waving at your counters.

*That reminds me of a story from when I waitressed at The Pour House in Boston, remind me I'll tell you about it.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Is rad. Go visit her. She's also awesome in 140 characters or less. Angie saved my butt today and here's why. I am forgetful. And not in a little sort of way, in a BIG sort of way. I forget what I'm doing, as I'm doing it, about 15 times a day. Zoning out? Oh yeah. I can't tell you what happened five minutes ago because although I was there, I wasn't there. I guess it runs in the family, we all end up calling each other by different names and you're lucky if my uncle remembers your age within ten years. He also once introduced his wife as his cousin. I'm that sort of space shot, except I'm like that all the time. This behavior, when combined with blogging, is bad. I'm sure that yesterday I had an awesome blog topic. It was epic you guys, seriously. But I didn't write it down and I didn't go write the post so it's lost. Probably forever. The world is worse off. But this is where A Whole Lot of Nothing comes in. She took a dare from Aunt Becky (mommywantsvodka) and opened her whore mouth. Then she told me to do the same. So I am. Because Angie told me to.and also because it gets me off the hook for another day or so.

1) Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream?Jimmies. Yes I like Jimmies on my Ice Cream. Rainbow are prettier but chocolate ones are better.

2) If you had to choose one word to banish from the English language, what would it be and why?Any word for the female anatomy. Seriously, they're all filthy and awkward. Can't we have something short and sweet like Dick?

3) If you were a flavor, what would it be?Honestly, probably something not very tasty. Actually trying to picture myself as a flavor is kind of weirding me out. I'm pretty sure I'm overthinking it.

4) What’s the most pointless annoying chore you can think of that you do on a daily/weekly basis?Folding clothes. I'd rather iron them all before I wear them than waste all the time it takes to fold.

5) Of all the nicknames I’ve ever had in my life, Aunt Becky is the most widely known and probably my favorite. What’s your favorite nickname? (for yourself)I actually like Melissa better than any of my nicknames. It's prettier than the others.

6) You're stuck on a desert island with the collective works of 5 (and only five) musical artists for the rest of your life. Who are they?U2Ingrid MichaelsonThe BeatlesChris IsaakLily Allen

That was painfully hard. I'd also want Jay Z, Ja Rule, Brad Paisley and a million other artists. I listen to pretty much every genre there is and love it all. :/

7) Everything is better with bacon. True or false?It goes against everything in my nature to say false but I'm sure there are somethings that are the exception to the always better with bacon rule.

8 ) If I could go back in time and tell Young Aunt Becky one thing, it would be that out of chaos, order emerge. Also: tutus go with everything. What would you tell young self? DO YOUR HOMEWORK! And shut your mouth and walk away when you get angry, it only gets you in trouble if you don't. Actually I could still use a lot of work on that last one.

About Me

I am 25, married, have one son and another on the way, I started keeping this blog for myself, as a way to document my life because I enjoy looking back on what I've written a few years later, but that got boring outrageously fast. I swear, sometimes a lot. I try to use euphemisms but that's a lot of work. I blame it on my mother-she's in construction.